


just your neck, and my beloved

by burnshoney



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: American Sign Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Formalwear, Married Life, Multiple Orgasms, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Resolved Sexual Tension, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnshoney/pseuds/burnshoney
Summary: When Amaya suddenly appears at her elbow after being mysteriously absent since Janai greeted their guests, she lowers her glass.’You’ve been slippery all night. Anything you'd like to share?’Amaya shakes her head, grinning smugly, the curve of her lips cockeyed.‘No.’
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Khessa/Suri (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 113





	just your neck, and my beloved

**Author's Note:**

> i have nothing much to put here besides my fingers hurt. this was never meant to be 9k+. i’ve accepted my place in hell okay now go enjoy, sinners. you’re welcome. 
> 
> (shoutout to path-of-sunlight on twitter. they know why)

The night is young, last reaching tendrils of burgundy and purple-slick sunlight staining the navy sky of Lux Aurea when Amaya appears at her elbow. Her wife has been mysteriously absent since the beginning of the gathering and Janai regards her curiously as she sips at the glass in her hand before setting it down to sign. _‘You’ve been slippery. Anything you’d like to share?’_

_‘No, nothing much,’_ Amaya says with a shake of her head. Janai knows she isn’t imagining the gleam in her wife’s eyes. _‘Just saying goodnight to Kazi. Why, did I miss anything?’_

Janai snorts before offering her elbow and smiling as Amaya winds her hand through it. _‘Just the standard rounds. Small-talk. You know, boring royal things like that you agreed to in our wedding vows.’_

Chuckling, Amaya lets her sweep them around the large sitting room adjacent to the dining hall and Janai nods to the various delegates in passing. She’s already said hello to them, after all, in the time after her small speech to welcome them formally right before Amaya had pulled her vanishing act so now they’re free to simply mingle. Dinner will be served soon and the small appetizers being passed around with the light wine to cleanse their palette makes Janai’s chest warm from the inside out. She knows her skin is starting to flush — she’s never been able to hold her wine like Amaya does. 

As if she knows what her wife is thinking, Amaya chuckles and snags a flute off a passing tray. She tilts it towards Janai’s chest as if to ask _‘Want some?’_ but when Janai shakes her head, Amaya shrugs before taking a small sip. Janai has to tear her eyes away from the alluring line of Amaya’s neck, creamy pale skin only illuminated by the sparkling chandeliers above them and the soft, crushed velvet of Amaya’s outfit. 

Though it’s been three years since Amaya stepped down from Katolis’ throne as Regent and one since permanently moved into Janai’s bedchamber as the first human Queen Consort of Lux Aurea after being crowned, Janai still finds herself in constant awe of the woman. One would think after so much time spent together, the buzzing lurch in her chest whenever Amaya is near would fade but it has yet to — Janai secretly hopes it never does. Even just Amaya’s hand in the crook of her elbow makes her entire body want to glow radiantly that she knows isn’t from the alcohol. 

She studies Amaya’s profile as they make their rounds. 

Tonight is a continued — if not seemingly useless — gesture towards the almost half-decade long span of peace. The sitting area is comfortably filled with both elves and humans of all kingdoms and factions, brought together under one roof for a relaxed night of formal...lack of a better word, _fun_. After dinner the dishes will be cleared as the tables moved and the musicians brought out until the sun crests the horizon and bathes Lux Aurea in its embrace. 

Janai doesn’t expect to crawl into bed until well after sunrise. In preparation for the long night, she knows both Amaya and she have opted for comfortable leather flats instead of the heels the maids had tried to coerce them into. With the lack of heels, their footsteps are quiet and Amaya has to look up ever so slightly to see her. 

Her eyes travel from the curve of Amaya’s handsome jawline down, roaming over her appreciatively. Knowing she’s still in public, Janai keeps her gaze chaste but knows intrinsically she’ll have a hard time keeping her eyes to herself tonight. 

Amaya looks absolutely _stunning_. 

Janai had been less than enthusiastic when the seamstresses had fitted her for the first time in the gown. White had never really been her color, rather opting for darker shades of burgundy and ruby, even gold on the rare occasion, but the final product she hadn’t been able to refute. The dress is a crisp, pressed white — as fresh as the snow at the Banthor Lodge Janai remembers from her and Amaya’s shared Winter’s Turn there — and hugs her figure beautifully. 

At her neck sits a gold bar, embroidered masterfully, that holds together both the plunging neckline of the gown and the cape that hangs off her shoulders. Twin suns stitched in delicate gold thread bloom at her breasts, one at the middle of her waistline, before gold beading connects them to identical ones sewn at her hips. Her arms are bared besides the cape that hangs to either side of her body and even as they walk her hands brush the various other suns that dot the dress’ skirt all the way down. At the hem of the skirt is three lines that look like sun rays, reaching up towards the top of the dress, done with the same fine beading as the details at her waist and along the side seams by her hips that travel to her thighs. Where the beading ends, though, is two identical slits on either side that start just above the knee. At the cool air that slips through the open fabric, Janai shivers pleasantly. Janai’s braids are pulled back on top and woven together with small pearls on gold hairpins that help to highlight the shine off the delicate rings in her ears. She knows the glittering must be significant. Pressed into her bicep is a gold cuff, metal cool against her skin, crafted finely and matching both the rings on her fingers and the rings on Amaya’s own hands. 

But if Janai is impressed with her own gown, she’s simply blown away by Amaya’s ensemble. 

_“Not matching,” the seamstress had said quickly when she saw the sour look on Janai’s face, “but think of them as a pair! This is your first public appearance with the Queen Consort since your wedding and we wanted to reflect that. You’ll both be stunning, standing side by side for your address and toast before dinner! I’ve seen the fabrics under the chandeliers of the dining hall and can guarantee they’ll be stunning.”_

_Janai had eyed the sketches before nodding. “As long as my wife is okay with it, I put full faith in you, Dayita. You’ve never made a bad dress in your time as Head Seamstress so I know this’ll be no different. Are you sure you can finish it in time, though? The dinner is only a fortnight away. I don’t want you and your seamstresses to overexert yourselves.”_

_Nodding excitedly, Dayita has scooped up the drawings and various pinned sheets of thin paper Janai knew were Amaya and she’s measurements. “We’ll finish them! I promise, even if I have to stay into the night. Oh, Your Radiance and Queen Consort Amaya are going to outshine the Sun!”_

_“Is that a pinky promise?”_

_At Dayita’s blank, confused look Janai had cleared her throat before offering a sheepish smile. “Human thing,” she explained with a flush._

_Dayita had blinked before bouncing on the toes of her feet._

_“If you say so, Queen Janai. Would you happen to know where Her Radiance is? I need to show her the sketches and get her approval before work can begin.”_

_Janai had smiled, clasping her hands together. “If I know my wife she’ll be in the gardens, probably with Princess Drisana, both of them most likely skipping out on their duties together. Maybe even raiding the kitchens for jelly tarts. If you can’t find her or our daughter, track down Kazi; they always seem to be the first to know where Queen Consort Amaya runs off to.”_

_With a deep bow, Dayita had scurried from the room and Janai was able to bend back over the papers spread across her desk. Tucking a braid behind her ear that had escaped the high twist atop her head, she had continued scratching her quill against the roll of parchment before her._

_‘Dear nephews...’_

Even now the thought of seeing her nephews makes Janai’s blood sing excitedly. 

She must tense up when she sees the mop of brown hair that belongs to none other than High Arch-Mage Callum across the room, chatting to King Ezran because Amaya turns to see what she’s looking at before her face is breaking into a wide, incandescent smile and she’s tugging Janai along. Eager as she is, Janai follows quickly not needing to be led and Ezran spots them over Callum’s shoulder when they’re only feet away. 

“Aunt Janai!” he almost shouts, startling Callum into spilling a bit of his wine by the way his older brother yelps shortly. Ignoring his distress, the young King of Katolis sidesteps Callum to fling himself at her and Janai laughs loudly, dropping Amaya’s hand to open her arms to him. 

“Ez!”

Slamming into her, Ezran knocks Janai back half a step with a force that makes her groan but she hugs her youngest nephew back just as fiercely regardless, pressing kisses to the wild mane of kinky hair that’s as uncontrollable as the day she met him on the Storm Spire. She knows he wears braids like her for court and formal events but the similarity to his late father’s locs has made Ezran shy away from the style, rather letting his curls free most of the time. 

Whenever Opeli caves to his wide, pleading eyes is more like it. Having met the woman, Janai knows Ezran’s cleric is strong but also knows that no one is willful enough to resist the young King’s babydoll eyes. Gods know she isn’t. 

The years have been good to Ezran. At eighteen, he’s a tall, wise, patient King with boundless energy and optimistic spirit that makes even the most grisly diplomat stop and listen. She’s seen it, and Janai can’t help but chuckle to herself. If rumors are to be trusted, more than one kingdom with eligible suitors have been chasing him while the King remains silent on the romantic front. Janai cups the back of his head and Ezran sighs deeply. 

She smiles to herself. There’s an ease to his shoulders, a quiet confidence, and it’s all thanks to Amaya. Even though it took a toll on her wife, Janai knows Amaya wouldn’t trade her time taking the Katolis throne for her youngest nephew for anything in the world. Ezran got to focus on growing up, being a child just a little bit longer, and it’s something Amaya treasures — being there for him, even when it was hard for her. The gray that peppers the front of her hair speaks to Amaya’s devotion to her family and Janai hugs Ezran tighter as he does the same. As much as she loves his grumpy glowtoad companion, she’s glad Bait is absent tonight from Ezran’s arms so she can do this. 

She opens her eyes. 

Over his shoulder, even with his height almost equaling hers, Janai peeks Amaya embracing Callum before pulling back and fingers moving so fast she can’t tell what her wife is saying. It must be a quip because Callum chuckles, setting down his now-empty flute to respond and Janai closes her eyes to squeeze Ezran one last time before pulling back. 

“You look well,” she beams and her fingers at his chin turn his face so she can take him in fully. “I trust the trip was easy? Amaya thought Flicker might accommodate you two better than my own Tiger so she insisted on sending her. I’m sorry we didn’t come greet you last night when you arrived, the banquet had some last preparations to be completed.” 

“No worries,” Ezran laughs lightly as he waves off her apology, “I get it. And to be fair, I forgive you for not greeting us, we know where our rooms are. Plus, you and Aunt Amaya look amazing! As does the room. You really outdid yourselves!”

Before Janai can respond, Callum appears by his brother’s side. Over the years, aided by puberty — and a healthy supply of jelly tarts, Janai suspects — Ezran has sprouted up so quickly that he’s now to the point of being almost half a head taller than his older brother. In their weekly joint letters to Lux Aurea, Callum had bellyached about Ezran’s height only for Ezran to reveal on the next page he was excited to pay back his older brother for all the noogies he’d gotten as a child; Amaya had snorted at that. On his brow gleams his mother’s circlet, Harrow’s lost when Viren fell from the Spire during the final battle that kickstarted peace, and Janai catches how Amaya’s eyes focus on the angled brass towers. 

It wasn’t too long ago she wore the same circlet on her own forehead, as Queen Regent, but now her brow is bare. Amaya hadn’t been quiet about her dislike for crowns so at their wedding, Janai had presented her with a finely-crafted, light gold ear cuff instead. 

With Amaya’s dark hair tucked behind it, the cuff glitters beautifully with every movement her wife makes. 

“It does look fantastic in here,” the High Arch-Mage says appreciatively before leaning forward to hug Janai, kissing both her cheeks. Ezran does the same to Amaya behind them. She grins, kissing his back, and lets her eyes wander back to her wife’s form as Callum continues talking. “Aunt Janai, you need to give your Head Seamstress a raise. You two are absolutely stunning together.”

Everything he’s said mirrored by his hands, Janai dips her chin. “Ah, yes. Our seamstress said the look wouldn’t be complete without standing next to each other. So, how do we look?”

Amaya saddles up next to her, winding her arm through Janai’s elbow again and they both stand proudly. Callum and Ezran’s smiles could outshine the chandeliers above. “You guys look...”

“...magnificent!” Ezran finishes. “Absolutely splendid!”

“I was going to say radiant, or striking,” Callum pouts playfully as a smug smirk spreads across Amaya’s face. “What?”

_‘I know we do. E_ _specially me.’_

Even as Janai pretends to gasp, playfully offended as she slaps at her wife’s arm, she knows Amaya is correct. As amazing as they may look together and as good as Janai knows she looks herself, she can’t help but appreciate Amaya’s outfit again. 

Dayita was right. Janai eyes her wife. 

Where her own gown is a crisp, clean white in a smooth fabric, Amaya’s ensemble is made of a crushed navy velvet. The color is deep, like the Lux Aurea sky at midnight, almost a sable with how dark it is. Not identical but very similar stitching in the same glittering gold thread details suns at Amaya’s breasts and hips, connected by half-circle lines of glimmering glass and gold beads. The neckline is just as plunging as Janai’s — the banquet being not a court-formal event allowing them to be a little more liberal with the amount of skin showing — but in a much more... _appetizing_ way. Janai’s tongue dusts her upper lip. Her height over Amaya coupled with the low line of her dress (plus Amaya’s more ample chest than her own) has left her cleavage bared and Janai silently reminds herself to thank Dayita the next time she sees her. 

The most noticeable difference, however, between Amaya and Janai’s ensembles is how instead of shifting into a skirt below the waistline, Amaya’s splits into pants. They’re wide-legged but not so loose as to not show the curve of her muscular thighs. At her shoulders is the same cape detail as Janai’s dress but instead of being done in thick fabric, it swirls around Amaya’s legs in a see-though, netting-like fabric that instead shows the strong curve of her biceps. The embroidery that holds the cape in place is stitched to mimic pauldrons but in a softer, more romantic way, mirroring sun rays rather like the hem of Janai’s skirt. 

Naturally there’s gold rings dotting Amaya’s hands, too, and on the opposite arm as Janai’s there’s a gold cuff with the same design. It’s all in the details and Dayita has outdone herself. Side-by-side, the Queens of Lux Aurea are a striking pair — day and night. 

Daylight and midnight. Twin suns. 

Janai manages to tear her eyes away, somehow, and when she does Callum is smirking at her knowingly. She flushes, caught, before throwing herself back into the event before her. The conversation between aunts and nephews wander from topic to topic lightly, touching on small topics with no weight and avoiding the skirmishes that have been popping up around the Breach as they slowly convert it into a museum. The decision to not tear down the large symbol of hatred but rather turn it into a place of joint education for future generations had been Amaya’s last act as Queen Regent to which Ezran faithfully continued. The two bridges crossing the lava river, wide and parallel to each other, will finish construction soon and both sides of the country are eager. Throughout it all, Amaya stays mostly silent for the exchanges, just nodding along to certain points, and a glass of champagne makes its way into one hand as the other — once laid against Janai’s back, slipped beneath her cape — slinks lower. Janai stutters over what she’s about to say as Amaya’s palm settles into her lower back but she’s saved from Ezran’s half-formed question by a lull at the front of the sitting room. 

Janai turns, Amaya following her gaze as a Sunfire elf appears at the large gilded doors of the dining room. Eta grins, raising her arms and spreading them as if to embrace the entire room of delegates and friends of both Queens of Lux Aurea. 

“Dinner is served!” she announces just as the Queensguard opens the double doors to the shining hall. 

“We’ll see you inside,” Janai turns back to her nephews before reaching out to squeeze Ezran’s arm. He looks about ready to bounce into the dining hall instead of walking and Amaya chuckles at his expression as Janai begins leading her wife towards the front of the room. Before dinner can start, she has a few words to say, then the first course will be served. 

They’re the first through the high archway. 

Elves and humans start to filter into the hall behind them and Janai leads Amaya towards the head of the long, dark wood table. Under the hundreds of flickering candles in the chandeliers high above, the golden inlays set into the top of the mahogany and protected by a layer of glass sparkle and Janai resists the urge to run her fingers across the surface as they head to the end. Its been years since she’s been in this hall — dinner is usually served in a smaller room down the corridor. This dining hall is only reserved for the most formal of events, gatherings. Or the most _personal._

The last time Janai had been in this room, Khessa had been at the head of the table with Suri to her right. Gripping their hand, her older sister had murmured softly to Janai her plans to have heirs with the High Sun Mage nervously, not meeting her eye until Janai laid her own hand atop Khessa’s with a reassuring smile. 

It had been only days before Janai left for the Breach again, less than six months later returning to her home with a captured human General in tow. She hadn’t had a chance to ask Khessa how she and Suri were faring on the front of bearing heirs, and soon _it hadn’t mattered._

Amaya’s concerned, questioning face appears in her line of sight, hand cupping her cheek and Janai blinks. A quick glance around the hall reveals most of the guests have found their places and are waiting for her with expecting eyes. 

An embarrassed flush creeps down her neck and Janai ducks her head, dropping Amaya’s hand as she steps to her place behind the carved chair at the head of the table. She grips the sides of the throne-like seat and takes a steadying breath in before letting go and addressing the guests before her. 

“Welcome,” she says, thankful her voice doesn’t shake as her hands do. She hides them in the folds of her dress, avoiding Amaya’s piercing gaze as she continues. Instead she catches Ezran’s eyes, who gives her a thumbs-up. “Thank you for joining Queen Consort Amaya and I tonight. Where we are today could not have been possible without you and we are here to celebrate that. Please, sit.”

Almost in unison, fifty-two chairs are pulled away from the table as the guests take their seats. With a flourished and over-exaggerated bow, Amaya pulls out Janai’s chair for her which she giggles at before sitting and waiting until her wife is also comfortable beside her to continue. She looks down the long, wide table, set with large candlesticks and low baskets filled with glittering decorations, the faces of those in attendance illuminated. 

She smiles. “I won’t keep you waiting long,” she chuckles and the guests laugh as well, “but I wanted to let you know how grateful I am you decided to join us tonight. Unfortunately our daughter, Princess Drisana, could not join us but she sends her and her glowtoad’s love.” More laughter, and Janai reaches to raise her sparkling wine glass. “Let us raise a toast; to you! Without the support of you and your citizens from across both Xadia and the Pentarchy, we wouldn’t be here tonight to share a drink with you, with our daughter fast asleep in her chambers.”

Amaya’s hand covers her own and Janai interlaces their fingers, glancing at her with a quirked smile. She raises her glass higher, eyes trained on her wife’s face, glowing in the candlelight. “To peace!” she announces and the guests parrot it back eagerly. 

“To peace!”

As soon as Janai’s glass is set back on the tabletop, the side doors to the hall open and servants appear with steaming plates in hand, bringing with them the most wonderful scents. Janai inhales, smiling, and sighs when a bowl is laid before her in the same moment as Amaya’s hand finds her leg to pat it reassuringly. 

Janai glances at her and Amaya winks before bringing her spoon to her lips and blowing on it. The spoon disappears into her smirking mouth and Janai feels her own go dry as Amaya’s hand on her thigh inches a finger through the slit in her skirt. 

Her eyes widen and she must blush because Callum raises an eyebrow. “Aunt Janai? You alright? You’re turning uh...red.”

His comment is thankfully lost to the others in their chatter and Janai coughs dryly before smiling shakily and setting down her spoon. In her lap, her other hand clenches into a fist. 

“Y-yes,” she stutters before biting at her lip. “I’m fine, just the soup is hotter than I thought. I wasn’t expecting it.”

Next to her, Amaya snorts. Callum’s eyebrows inch further up his forehead. “But I thought Sunfire elves could withstand heat up to astronomical levels? I don’t think the soup is that hot, because Aunt Amaya just had a bite and she’s fine. See?”

Janai grits her teeth. Underneath the table, Amaya’s fingers are tracing the skin of her thigh, just the slightest bite of her short nails scratching. 

When Janai turns to follow Callum’s finger, pointing towards Amaya’s face and how apparently _fine_ she is after tasting the soup, her wife is smiling innocently. Janai has the urge to either sock her in her mouth with her fist or her own mouth suddenly. 

Amaya’s fingers creep further up and Janai almost bites her tongue. 

“You’re right,” Janai says and steels her voice against the way it wants to warble in time to her heart as Amaya traces circles into her skin. Heat that isn’t from the chandeliers, or the wine in her glass sings through her veins and pools wonderfully in her stomach. If they weren’t already pressed together, crossed daintily, Janai would clench them further to distract herself from how she can feel her body responding to Amaya’s light touch. 

The night has just begun and she’s in trouble. As if to solidify her realization, another bloom of warmth spreads from her chest down her spine to curl between her hips. 

Janai makes up her mind. The guests are distracted by their plates, Callum and Ezran chatting with the elves next to them and Janai holds her breath. Her hand is reaching out underneath the table out, _out_ , fingers brushing the curve of her thigh through her pants and Amaya’s eyes are widening—

“Your Radiance.”

She startles, snatching her hand back to her lap before whirling around in her seat. “Yes?”

“It’s Princess Drisana,” the maid murmurs nervously, speaking lowly as to not concern the guests. Janai’s heart stops in her chest. “She’s awake and crying for you and Queen Consort Amaya. The nanny can’t console her, no matter what she tries to do. We’re sorry to interrupt you—“

“No, no,” Janai says as she stands, dusting off her skirts. The chair scrapes the tiles and all eyes turn to her instantly. She waves her hand as she gestures for Amaya to rise. “It’s alright, don’t get up! It seems like the Princess isn’t as fast asleep as we thought. Go back to eating, Queen Consort Amaya and I will be back presently.”

The guests all chirp their hope for Princess Drisana’s health as Janai hurries from the room, pulling Amaya behind her. Heart clenching in her chest with worry, Janai tugs at her wife as they round a corner. She doesn’t realize she’s rambling until her brain catches up with her mouth.

“I knew she was having trouble sleeping— I never should have left her— how could I have been so stupid? Amaya, they said she was _crying_ —“

Amaya’s grip on her wrist suddenly turns into a vise and Janai yelps as she’s tugged around before her back is being pressed into a wall. She blinks, mouth gaped in surprise, and Amaya licks between her open lips as if in invitation as she presses her chest to Janai’s. 

Gasping, Janai’s arousal-numb fingers find Amaya’s forearms, grasping them. “Amaya,” she moans, “A-Amaya what are you _d—!”_

Realization hits her like a shot and she’s sucking in a breath as Amaya’s mouth separates from her to let her speak. 

“Dris never woke up crying did she,” she breathes heavily and Amaya’s dark eyes gleam knowingly, “you were just trying to get me out of there.”

Amaya nods, deep breaths ghosting across Janai’s chin. Her head is cocked, looking up at her and as she does, Janai squeezes her thighs together again. Amaya’s tongue dusts her upper lip as if she’s hungry to devour more than soup. Janai tries and fails to steady the jackrabbit of her heart, racing, fueled by arousal. 

It’s so little but so _much_ at the same time and her head spins pleasantly. Amaya’s gaze burns across her lip before dragging lower to the curve of her neck which she looks ready to devour. 

As if to sample, her mouth hovers right above the flushed, dark skin of Janai’s neck for a moment until Janai nods tinily and Amaya descends. Moaning lowly, Janai drops her head back against the wall and closes her eyes to the wet heat of Amaya’s mouth as she latches onto her pulse point. Her lips create a seal as her teeth worry at the skin that flutters under her ministrations, and Janai writhes from where she’s pinned. 

“W-we should get back,” she says haltingly, trying and failing to swallow her moans. Amaya’s tongue traces the throb of her pulse and Janai’s knees feel weak. “They’ll be wondering.... _mmhm_...where we are.”

Amaya’s mouth disconnects from her neck with a pop that makes Janai moan helplessly. Her wife pulls back just enough, head level with her chest, so that Janai can see her signing. Her smile is devious. _‘We’re tucking Drisana back into bed. They’ll understand; children can be clingy. Especially after nightmares.”_

“Amaya—“ she accuses but her hands fall from Amaya’s arms and her head is tilting back to thump against the wall again. Her entire body seems on a tilting axis, like the globe in her study. Amaya’s mouth is all too eager to reattach to her neck and lick down her collarbones. 

Janai’s gown has a low neckline that plunges to well between her breasts and Amaya’s hand that doesn’t grasp at her hip, keeping her pinned, creeps up the front of her body to toy with the deep _v._ All of a sudden she feels like she’s drowning underneath the ocean of arousal that Amaya’s fingers leave trailing in their path. She pants, hands scrambling until they grasp onto something above her and Janai’s eyes fly open. 

It’s a _hanger_. The soft linen of aprons lining the shelf surround her fingers as she clenches her fist and Amaya’s smile is palpable against her neck. 

They’re in a _broom closet._ Janai realizes too late that her wife’s disappearing act at the beginning of the night was not to bid Kazi goodnight but rather, it seems, to scout out a good location to ravish her in once she got Janai alone. The thought makes her dizzy — dizzier than she already was. 

Janai remembers all too well the other times they hadn’t made it back to their bedchamber before pouncing on the other. It seems Amaya’s weakness is her wife in royal finery and as her hands frame Janai’s hips, Janai knows she shares the thought. 

Mouth disappearing from Janai’s neck, her arousal-addled brain processes too late Amaya’s moved away until she’s been spun around and her cheek, instead, is pressed against the linen. Amaya’s chest presses into her back, knee coming between her own to spread her legs to shoulder-width and Janai moans wildly as her hands fly to try to grasp at the woman behind her. 

Somehow, her wife avoids her searching hands. Long fingers wrap around each of Janai’s wrists before bringing them up above her head and pinning them there with a single touch. Janai pants hotly as Amaya’s grip tightens before loosening — instructing her wordlessly. 

_‘Stay.’_

Janai nods quickly, showing she’s understood and desperate for Amaya’s hands to touch _other parts_ of her. After a moment, the grip moves away entirely and she clenches her fingertips in the linen. 

Amaya’s hand ghosts down her outstretched arms that Janai keeps faithfully above her head. Even as her wife teases her with her light touch, Janai can feel how fast Amaya’s heartbeat is through the press of her front to her back and the heady, hot breathes against her neck. Amaya is just as affected as Janai, perhaps even more excited and aroused, and Janai doesn’t have to wait long for Amaya to move. 

As patient as Amaya seems to be in balance to Janai’s recklessness, it seems the tables have turned tonight. 

She’s not the most impatient one, now. 

Amaya sweeps her braids from her neck with a single finger, bringing them around to lay on her left shoulder before she leans close enough that her lips brush the short hairs at Janai’s nape. Janai lets a whine roll through her, wanting, and the sweet kiss pressed to her skin seems a taunt. Tutting her disapproval against the skin, Amaya nips so quickly Janai resists the urge to let her eyes roll up into the back of her head. 

From where Amaya’s chest is pressed between her shoulder blades, lightning-hot white heat sizzles down her spine to spark in her belly. A fire is lit deep in her abdomen, so low it slinks and roars between her thighs, and Janai knows when Amaya’s fingers _inevitably_ continue their path from underneath the table inside the slit of her gown, they’ll find that dripping wet arousal that thunders through her with every breath. 

As if she knows what her wife is thinking, the hand on her back that’s pressing her against the wall shifts to come around Janai’s ribcage, tickling at the side of her breast. Amaya is still kissing and nipping at the nape of her neck, inhaling the scent of Janai’s amber perfume and Janai relaxes further into the aprons hang above her while also clinging to them for dear life. 

She knows, in a crystal clear moment of realization, that she’ll need something to hold onto. 

Amaya’s hand on her hip shifts, moving the white fabric of her dress to wrinkle and Janai knows she must be savoring the vibrations of her various languid moans and needy groans by licking at her skin as she is. Any sound she doesn’t catch by kissing Janai’s neck instead rumbles through her like a summer storm, loud and unpredictable, that Janai is sure Amaya can feel them reverberate in her own bones. 

She’s certain of it. 

Warm, chapped lips kiss around the neckline at Janai’s back as Amaya’s fingers ghost over the side of her breast again; once, twice. Asking, _waiting._

Janai nods, half-frantic and out of her mind with need and Amaya chuckles darkly against her neck as she slips her hand neatly into the top of her wife’s gown. Immediately Janai is panting harsher, even as Amaya’s palm drags over the swell of her breast but avoids the very peak. Even as her fingers explore and knead into the soft, sloped skin. 

She bucks her hips impatiently only to get pressed further into the wall and Janai bites back a victorious, toothy grin. Amaya’s gotten the message — _more, I want more, give me more_ — loud and clear. 

Amaya’s never been able to deny her anything. 

Two of her fingers rub up on either side of Janai’s breast, kneading, before squeezing together and Janai breath explodes out of her all at once. There’s teeth in the smile that Amaya presses to her neck and Janai shivers. The motion raises goosebumps, pebbling her skin and Janai can _feel_ the moment her nipple hardens. 

Her palm slides over Janai’s breast fully, cupping the peak and pressing Janai back into her while her chest also pushes the elf further into the wall. Its a delicate balance that Amaya straddles the line to as she continues moving her hand, rolling Janai’s nipple between her fingers and kissing the curve of where the elf’s neck slopes into her shoulder. 

Amaya hasn’t even touched her _there_ yet and Janai feels ready to pop. The heat roiling in her thighs is starting to move upward to coil like a snake preparing to strike between her hips and she breathes out harshly. “A-Amaya— _please_...”

Oh, she isn’t going to last much longer. 

She’s not the only one who knows it. There’s a smile on her lips when Amaya drags her teeth across the junction of her neck and shoulder that Janai tilts her head to allow better access to as she locks her trembling knees. Fingers still buried in the pressed linen, Janai moans as she tightens her grip. 

Amaya’s hand, laying still on her thigh beneath the slit, moves and Janai’s hips jolt. They knock into Amaya’s pelvis and pressed close as her wife is, boxing her in, Janai can’t go anywhere. The thought makes the snake coil tighter. 

As if to tease her, Amaya’s fingernails scrape circles into her inner thigh, barely inches from her clothed apex. Janai makes a fist in the linen until she knows her knuckles go white — when did Amaya’s hand get that high up? The last thing her arousal-soaked mind can remember is Amaya touching the inside of her knee right below the slit. When she tries to recreate the path her wife’s hand has made to almost brush her underwear from her knee she can’t. 

A singular finger strokes a single line between her thighs, right between the lips of her folds atop the fabric of her underwear and this time, Janai’s knees really _do_ tremble. She knows she’s panting loudly now, moaning uncontrollably and her hips have started undulating in small circles to try to provide much-needed friction. Her entire body seems to quake in anticipation. 

“P-please,” she begs breathlessly, trying to grind down on the hand between her thighs but Amaya retracts it. A needy cry bursts out of Janai. “Please! _Amaya_ , plea—“

Amaya slides the hand to cup her clothed mound and Janai gasps, sucking in a sharp breath as her legs twitch. She knows her underwear must be soaked by now and when she rubs her thighs together she can feel the wetness gathered there, as well as the heady warmth of her arousal that radiates from her throbbing folds. 

For a breathtaking moment, Amaya doesn’t move. 

Then Amaya’s sliding her hand lower, the heel of her palm pressed ever-so-slightly to the bundle of nerves between Janai’s thighs and she’s clenching down, chasing the friction helplessly. Even though there’s a layer of fabric between their skin, Janai can feel the warmth radiating from both of them and it drives her _mad_. She bites at her lip, huffing, until Amaya’s other hand wanders from her nipple up her neck to her mouth. 

She taps twice at Janai’s lower lip. _‘I want to hear you.’_

Janai flushes, dully. What Amaya means by hearing her is wanting to feel the vibrations travel up her throat — when Janai bites them back, the reverberations are lost. She knows how much Amaya savors being able to press her lips to Janai’s skin and get as close as she can to hearing the beautiful moans she can wring from her wife. 

She opens her mouth but whatever she’s going to say breaks off into a shout that then dissolves into a whining moan as Amaya slips her fingers into the small scrap of fabric Janai has on as underwear at the same time massaging her breast with her entire hand. Immediately Janai is swearing colorfully as she grinds her hips down and around, high on the feeling of Amaya’s fingers already slick with her arousal, laying against her throbbing clit. Her entire body seems to tremble with anticipation even as Amaya doesn’t move her hand in the slightest between her legs, just massaging her nipple between two fingers while kissing the junction of her neck chastely. 

Janai feels like a firecracker. 

Even though Amaya’s fingers don’t part her folds, don’t move in the slightest against the wet, hooded bundle of nerves, it’s enough. The firecracker in her belly is struck with a lit match and with one final shrieking moan, Janai comes.

The entire world seems to speed up and slow down all at once. In the back of her mind, Janai registers she’s panting wildly, hips rocking down on Amaya’s still fingers and back against her own pelvis, full body quaking with the weight of the arousal that crashes inside her. Blood rushes through her ears and the space under her skin is reduced to a single, throbbing entity, beating in time to her heartbeat as she rides out the wave. 

All she can see is white. 

Janai doesn’t know how long she shakes against Amaya’s back, pressed between the wall and Amaya’s front. There seems to be no room in the closet at all as well as _too much._

Finally, the violent trembling becomes more subdued as her body begins to come down from the peak. Tremors that make her shiver still run down her spine but instead of the lightning strikes of her release, they’re softer. _Lighter_. Like rain droplets, sliding down her skin. When Janai finally regains her sense of self, Amaya is kissing up the side of her neck to press her lips to her earlobe and Janai shudders, over-sensitive. 

Amaya grins against her skin.

_‘Welcome back,’_ the curve of her smile says and she kisses the dip right below Janai’s earlobe again, flicking out her tongue to trace it. Janai’s responding groan is lower, headier, as everything slowly trickles back into being. 

Janai’s knuckles ache from being clenched in fists around the linen so much so that she sighs when she manages to pry them away. Lips still attached to her neck, Amaya chuckles. There’s a question in her laughter but Janai doesn’t catch it until the hand between her thighs twitches. She bites down her tongue in surprise and shouts — Amaya smirks against her neck. 

At first the movement against her clit is nothing more than a single, stroking fingertip. Even as Amaya draws the pad of her finger across that slick, throbbing bundle of nerves in light touches Janai can feel the fire underneath her skin coming back to life, stoked by Amaya’s ministrations. She’s still trembling finely with the aftershocks of her first orgasm when a second finger joins the first, rubbing, making little circles that branch out ever-so-often to collect more slick from between Janai’s folds. 

Helplessly, Janai finds herself back in the same position as before — fists clenched so tight in the starched aprons that her hands ache but she doesn’t _care_. Doesn’t feel it. Every nerve in her body is numb except for the ones between her legs which spark forest fires inside her belly with every pass of Amaya’s clever fingers. 

She’s immobile and finds she doesn’t care. Amaya’s fingers are steady, constant, even as Janai bucks her hips in stuttering movements to try and dip her wife’s long digits into where she really wants them. Sensing Janai’s impatience, Amaya clucks her tongue before licking at the bruise Janai can feel tenderly forming at her neck. She whines in protest, already craving more, but Amaya seems content to stay right where she is. 

Oversensitive, a throbbing nerve, tenderly being stroked to inferno, Janai is happy to be tugged along by the string Amaya’s tied to the space between her thighs. She’ll gladly be led by that knot of red string to the end of the world — and back. She has before and teetering on the edge of pleasure already as she is, Janai knows she’ll do it again. 

Amaya’s lit more than a fire between her hips. 

Dimly, Janai wonders how long they’ve been away and if one of the guests — or _Suns_ _forbid_ Callum and Ezran — come looking for them before Amaya’s finger _finally_ slides between her soaked folds and every rational thought leaves her body in a heaving pant. Janai presses her face fully into the hanging linen, moaning breathlessly, as Amaya seems to brush against every sensitive spot on her with her knowing fingers. 

Her eyes lid as they halfway roll up into her head and Janai feels herself already coming undone again. She’s at the precipice again, balancing on the tightrope strung between Amaya’s fingers, and Janai loves it. 

By the _Sun_ , Janai loves her wife. 

With no warning, Amaya’s finger travels lower and dips inside her. There’s no resistance in the way she sinks into Janai’s heat to the knuckle, and this time Janai’s eyes really _do_ roll into the back of her head with pleasure. A moan rumbles out of her lowly, and the noise doesn’t seem to end as Amaya doesn’t let her adjust to the slick stretch before adding in a second. 

The fingertips curl inside her and Janai yelps. She knows she’s clenching down wetly, can hear the slap of skin against skin, amplified by moisture that aids Amaya’s path inside her. The moment Amaya’s fingertips graze at that blinding white spot inside her, Janai screams. 

It’s only the press of Amaya’s body to hers that keeps her upright. 

A third finger reaches inside her, tenderly caressing that spot so wonderfully deep inside her Janai feels _full_. With every quick thrust in of Amaya’s hand, so close her palm grinds against Janai’s swollen clit, she draws louder and louder whining keens from her parted lips. Her legs shake, hips trembling as her spine quivers and she presses her face against the aprons until she can feel the fine stitching. “ _Fuck_ — Amaya, Amaya p-please, _faire plaisir_ —Amaya!”

Janai registers numbly she’s babbling, half in Common Tongue and half in Lux Aurea’s dialect until she doesn’t even recognize her own groans. Growling against her, Amaya’s free hand wanders to her chin before two fingers probe at her lips. 

Without thinking twice, Janai opens her mouth. Immediately two of Amaya’s fingers are against her tongue, still even as Amaya’s hand works between her thighs in wet slaps. 

She moans around Amaya’s hand helplessly, stuck between closing her lips or letting them hang open limply as she humps down on her wrist and palm. Trapped by not only her body and hips but strung out by both of her hands, Janai feels grounded and like she’s soaring all at once. 

Her ears are ringing, filled with her own drawn-out yelps and groans, high pants and low sighs. _“Amaya...”_

As if to answer her breathless calling, Amaya’s teeth graze her neck, devious, canine catching at her skin as her fingers press inside her as deep as they can go. Janai’s folds stretched around her hand, her thumb swipes at her hooded bundle of nerves at the same time Amaya curls all three fingers inwards and presses mercilessly down at that slick spot. 

Janai _breaks._

_“Amaya-! S_ _'il_ _te plait, s'il te plait oh, merde! MERDE!”_

Her entire body sings underneath Amaya. If her first orgasm made her weak, this one steals the very breath from her lungs until she’s left with nothing. She’s trembling against her wife, thighs clenching inwards to trap Amaya’s hand right where it is as she’s helpless to the pull of slick pleasure that drags her under. 

She releases wetly, ears ringing and legs shaking, right into Amaya’s palm with a shout. Even as she squirts the hand between her thighs doesn’t stop the mad thrusting until she’s left, wrung out and fucked senseless, folds throbbing. 

Amaya thinks she’s never loved Janai more than when the elf is panting against her, reduced to vibrating moans by her hands and fingers, crying out and grinding down. Every line of their bodies pressed together as they are, Janai’s hips both working down into Amaya’s palm wetly and back against her own pelvis, Amaya kisses her neck with long presses. 

When her wife comes, Amaya’s eyes widen before her mouth lines with a satisfied smirk. She can feel Janai’s fluttering walls clenching down, pulsing around her fingers as slick drips from Amaya’s knuckles to collect on Janai’s inner thighs. It’s a rare occasion, coaxing fluid from her with her release, especially so much so that it slides down her legs. 

Suddenly glad she’d hiked up Janai’s skirts before reaching into her underwear, Amaya licks her lips. 

She’s not going to let this opportunity go to waste. She’s starving in a way that can’t be satisfied by the banquet only a corridor away and Janai must sense her thoughts because she shivers. 

Or maybe it’s because Amaya’s fingers haven’t moved from stroking that bundle of slick nerves set so deep inside her Janai feels like she’s on fire. Having been on the receiving end before, Amaya can only grin and wait for the throbbing of her clenched walls to stop before she can withdraw her hand. 

Waiting is the sweetest pleasure of it all. 

In the meantime, Amaya peppers the alluring line of Janai’s neck with biting kisses, nipping at the skin demurely before lathing her tongue over in apology. A few last clenches down on Amaya’s fingers — which she suspects will be wrinkled with moisture when she pulls them out — along with a final helpless squirt that trickles down Janai’s shaking legs follow until Amaya can slowly pull her hand from Janai’s underwear. Her wife groans, overstimulated, as Amaya works her fingers out from inside her and yelps when a knuckle accidentally grazes her clit. Her hips jump sharply. 

Sympathetically humming in apology, Amaya pulls back fully from her underwear to instead lay her hand wetly against Janai’s soaked thigh. Most of her fluids has probably pooled on the floor but both her inner thighs are coated in the slick as well from her close clench. 

A muddled idea forms in Amaya’s head and she’s moving before she can think it through fully. All in the same motion she’s yanking Janai’s underwear down her legs, spinning her around just to push her back against the wall and pin her there with a firm press of the same hand that had just been in her mouth. Amaya catches Janai’s lidded gaze and slowly sinks to her knees before her parted legs, settling between her knees. 

Janai’s lips part beautifully in what Amaya assumes is a languid moan as Amaya flicks her tongue out to trace the skin of her inner knee. What’s left of Janai’s wet release has collected in the dips of her knees, sliding down her thighs and clinging to her apex. 

One hand clamps down over Janai’s mouth as the other buries itself in Amaya’s hair. Her hips jump forward with every touch of Amaya’s warm tongue as her wife faithfully cleans up every drop of slick between her knee and her thigh. 

Gently, Amaya’s hand on her hip presses her back against the wall as she noses her way between Janai’s thighs. She knows she’s already shaking, nerves singing, but everything goes silent the moment Amaya’s fingers part Janai’s slick folds. 

She gasps. 

Amaya, as she does all things, is nothing but tender. Every touch is warm, careful — fingertips sliding between her folds and gathering the wetness to bring it towards her still-pulsing clit. Janai tightens her fingers in Amaya’s hair, whining, and Amaya gazed up at her as her tongue licks between the folds parted by her fingers. Knowing what her wife is going to do, Janai lets her chin drop to her chest to watch. 

Eyes gleaming in the low light of the broom closet, Janai feels almost as if she’s floating outside her own body as Amaya laps at her clit. Collecting the wetness of Janai’s past two orgasms as well as the residual slick of her squirt has made her folds glisten enticingly and Amaya licks at it as if she’s thirsting for water. 

Torn between watching her wife work her skilled tongue between her legs or dropping her head back, Janai just grips Amaya’s hair tighter in her fist. Already there’s that tightening in the space of her hips, winding in her belly — but instead of a roaring fireplace inside her skin its instead a warm ember. A reminder of how much Amaya not only loves to pleasure her, but _love her,_ too. 

Janai comes with a sigh. Compared to her two other releases, this one is easier and makes every inch of her to her fingertips tingle instead of go numb with blind pleasure. The tightening unravels like a tangle of string, easing out into a universe behind her eyelids and she buries her fingertips in Amaya’s scalp before drawing her closer. 

She doesn’t realize her trembling legs have actually given out until Amaya’s hands are wrapped around her biceps and she’s being lowered to the floor. Still gasping and panting as she is, Janai only dimly registers Amaya kissing both her cheeks as she situates the elf to sit against the wall before rising. There’s the sound of a zipper, followed by the dull thud of heavy fabric being shed before a hand wraps around Janai’s horn. 

Heavy eyes open to a wonderful sight — Amaya’s creamy pale skin before her, muscular thighs flexing. Janai lets her eyes wander up and down before focusing on the main course. 

After wringing three body-numbing releases out of her wife, Amaya’s folds are gleaming with their own arousal gone unattended to until now. Coarse, dark curls thatch the skin above and around her hooded bundle of nerves, a slick and flushed pink, and Janai’s mouth waters. Before Amaya’s hand wrapped around the base of her horn can lead her to her own aching need, Janai is leaning in and running her tongue over the glistening seam of Amaya’s outer lips. 

A fleeting glance up reveals Amaya is stripped fully, her elegantly and painstakingly stitched outfit pooled around her feet before being kicked away. Never more thankful for a singular zipper down Amaya’s back, Janai watches her wife’s face color as she fists her hand against the wall, resting her forehead against it to gaze down at the head between her thighs. Janai lets her tongue flick out again to her folds, not applying enough pressure to dip inside them and Amaya’s complaint is a keening groan followed by an insistent hand that brings Janai’s lips ever closer. 

Her nose presses into Amaya’s curls as Janai finally, _finally_ , licks into her wife. 

Amaya is slick and ready. Every pass of Janai’s tongue against her folds and past her clit makes Amaya’s legs tremble — a testament to how aroused she is. Janai knows it’s only towards the end of her wife’s patience and endurance that her knees turn inwards and her thighs trembles. Taking mercy on her, Janai stops avoiding her clit to instead lick directly at the bundle of nerves, alternating long strokes with quick flicks. She closes her eyes, savoring the wetness she sucks from Amaya’s clit as a myriad of noises pour from the woman above her. Each sound is music to her ears, beautiful, and Janai presses closer to lathe her tongue against the throbbing skin. 

Her entire world narrows to Amaya’s panting moans as Janai licks at the most sensitive part of her. Every touch makes Amaya’s hips jolt against her mouth, sending a shockwave through her, and Janai doubles her efforts. 

Already she can feel Amaya’s motions becoming more erratic as she nears her orgasm, walls fluttering against her tongue. Amaya’s hands are tightening around her horn, hips grinding and shaking as her legs quake at the same time and her pants come quicker. Janai smiles to herself, smug, opening her eyes to watch her wife’s downward spiral. 

Setting a steadying hand against the front of her thigh, Janai flattens her tongue before tugging the pulsing bundle of nerves between her teeth. 

Gasping, writhing, Amaya releases quickly against her mouth. The hand around her horn flexes and she chuckles, moaning, which only serves to make Amaya shake harder against her lips. Janai slowly edges her wife down from her throbbing high with quick licks to her folds, ever-so-slightly dipping her tongue in to feel the clench of Amaya’s walls as she comes, hips grinding down to spread her slick all over Janai’s wide lips. 

She slides her hand from the front of Amaya’s thigh to the back, absentmindedly kneading the slope of her ass as she pulls back. Janai surveys the sight before her with pride — it’s a combination of her own orgasms plus her tongue that’s reduced Amaya to the shivering, groaning mess she is now. Slick is smeared not only in the crevice of her inner thighs but up in her curls, too, and Janai licks her lips to catch the residual wetness on her own face. Salt dissolves against her tongue and she wipes at her cheek with a single finger. Above her Amaya moans languidly and Janai looks up, meeting her wife’s dark and hungry gaze. 

With a tired yet smug smile, Janai pops the finger in her mouth. 

Amaya’s groan ratchets up an octave higher. Hollowing her cheeks around her finger, Janai lathes her tongue over the digit before letting it and a single line of spit slip from her mouth. Amaya slides to the floor next to her before catching her mouth in a frantic, messy, teeth-filled kiss. 

Leaning in, Janai returns it. Hands are wandering, ghosting over some skin while heavily petting others, and Amaya ends up half-laying in Janai’s lap. She doesn’t know how long the kisses last but eventually they begin to lengthen, turning from passionate, wild things to slower, intimate presses of warm mouths. 

When her head starts to spin with a lack of oxygen, Janai’s fingernails dig into Amaya’s biceps. She leans back, heaving, until she’s against the wall and her hands wander to the space between Amaya’s shoulder-blades. Time skips and jumps again until Amaya’s eyes close, relaxed, and Janai shifts. 

In her arms, Amaya looks up with her with lidded, dark eyes. Janai can’t help but chuckle lowly, heart glittering in her chest. Even though her limbs feel heavy and full she pulls herself upright, hands leaving Amaya’s back to sign. 

_‘We should probably get back to the dining hall,’_ Janai signs mournfully and grins weakly at how Amaya’s lips turn down, pouting. Even as the pleasurable aftershocks rumble through them both, making her want to not move against the cold tiles underneath her ass, Janai has to push Amaya away lightly. _‘We’re gonna miss desert because of you.’_

Completely naked as she is, Amaya watches her from the floor as she props herself up on her elbow. Her eyes gleam in the low light. _‘I don’t mind. I already had dessert.’_

Janai wrinkles her nose at her. _‘You’re awful,’_ she accuses lightly before holding out her hand. Amaya _’_ s grin is smug, knowing as she takes it. 

Once she’s pulled her wife to her feet, she reaches to let down her hitched-up skirts before frowning. Amaya must catch the expression. 

_‘What? Are you hurt?’_

_‘We should clean up,’_ Janai signs before squinting. She can’t seem to locate the scrap of lace she’d been wearing as underwear but blinks as suddenly there’s a mass of cream fabric before her. 

It’s one of the aprons from the hooks on the wall. 

Amaya looks pointedly at the apron, waiting until Janai takes a hint, lifting it from her hands before signing. _‘Use it to clean yourself up. It’s ripped, anyway. You might need to cut your nails after dinner.’_

Looking numbly at the linen in her hands, Janai sees her wife isn’t kidding. It’s not huge but sure enough there’s a rip in the rough fabric, spanning at least two finger’s width. Avoiding Amaya’s smirk, Janai flushes before wiping herself clean using one of the edges. When she’s done, she offers it to Amaya and gives up on searching for her underwear before shimmying down her skirt. 

When she’s sufficient she doesn’t look like she’s just been ravished multiple times by her wife in a broom closet during a diplomatic dinner, Janai looks up. Amaya is smiling at her knowingly, and turns her back as she sets the apron aside. 

Her hands raise so Janai can see them over her shoulders. _‘Zip me up?’_

Huffing a breathless laugh, Janai draws the zipper up from the small of Amaya’s back to the nape of her neck. She admires the handiwork of the stitching — the zipper is the same deep blue as the rest of the crushed velvet and once she smoothes her hand down Amaya’s spine, the entire zipper including the tab seems to disappear. 

Amaya turns. _‘How do I look?’_

_‘Like you just tucked your daughter back into bed after a nightmare,’_ Janai signs, _‘not made your Queen scream in a linen closet.’_ She loops her arm through Amaya’s as her wife shrugs, as if to say _oops._

They both know she’s not sorry in the slightest. 

Amaya closes the door to the broom closet behind her. Apron in hand, Janai looks around before stowing it in the trash. _‘Remind me to replace that tonight before the maids come in tomorrow morning.’_

_‘If you’re available tonight,’_ Amaya grins toothily. Swatting at her wife’s arm playfully, Janai laughs with her as they walk. 

When they’re just around the corner from the double doors of the dining hall, Janai pauses before smoothing one final hand down her skirts. Even with cleaning herself up with the apron, her thighs still feel sticky and cool as her arousal lessens and she’s reminded of her lack of underwear. 

She furrows her eyebrows. “Amaya? Do you know-“

_‘-where your underwear is?’_ her wife interrupts. As Janai looks at her, confused, Amaya pulls a familiar scrap of white lace from the pocket of her suit. Dangling it from one finger, she smiles cockily, lazily. More than just Janai’s cheeks warm. 

Before she can swipe at it, Amaya tucks the undergarment back into her pocket and takes her elbow. She pats Janai’s arm. _‘You’ll get it back tonight,’_ she signs, smirking, _‘don’t worry. Just not now. We have a dinner to get to.’_

Flustered, Janai only gapes at her. The doors are suddenly in front of them and opening with a groan which draws everyone’s eyes at the table and Janai pushes down her urge to hit her wife, replacing it with a winning smile. She waves for everyone to stay seated. Questions flying at them from all sides of the table as they walk by, Janai waits until Amaya is seated to take her own, back at the head. 

Ezran looks worried. “I hope Drisana is okay,” he says hopefully and Janai forgets Amaya’s cover story for a moment before nodding. 

“Yes! Yes, she’s okay. Nothing a story couldn’t fix,” she says laughs lightly but something in her voice must betray her nerves because both nephews set down their goblets to look at her strangely. 

Janai bites back a curse. She can fight her entire squadron by herself, in a dress and without armor, but can’t lie convincingly to save her life. Next to her, Amaya chuckles. 

Callum nods slowly. “Okay...” he trails off before turning to Amaya as her hands move. 

_‘She’s just tired, we both are,’_ Amaya lies flawlessly. _‘I apologize for our absence but one wasn’t enough for her.’_ Her eyes find Janai’s as she signs the last part and Janai looks away, flushed. 

“One, as in one story?” Ezran asks, signing at the same time and Amaya’s eyes are victorious.

Not able to take another moment, Janai clears her throat suddenly. “So! What’d we miss?”

A maid appears to her left. “We can have Your Radiances’ dinner brought out!” she says brightly, hands clasped. “It’s just in the kitchen — we’re about to serve dessert. Would you like it, are your Majesties hungry or...?” Her eyes dart to Amaya, who must sign something because she nods before scurrying away. 

She whips around. _‘What did you tell her?’_ Janai fervently signs, worried, but Amaya’s grin is easy. She leans back in her chair. 

_‘I just shook my head when she asked us if we were hungry,’_ her wife shrugs, signing under the table where her nephews can’t see her hands before a dark amusement twinkles in her eye, clear under the chandeliers. _‘And it’s true. I already had dinner_ and _dessert.’_

Amaya’s laughter rings through the dining hall as Janai buries her face in her palms, entire face and neck going warm with color. She can hear Callum asking Amaya if she’s okay as her shoulders shake with her own embarrassed chuckles before Amaya is prying her fingers away from her face with her own. 

Fingers that still — Janai notes duly — smell like her arousal. It’s a thought that makes her blush harder until she feels like she’s in heat-being mode from the force of her embarrassment.

She meets Amaya’s eyes as her wife tangles their fingers together. When Amaya brings their intertwined hands up, Janai can’t seem to tear her eyes away as lips are pressed to her knuckles. She shivers, and the motion makes Amaya raise her eyes, quirking an eyebrow. A slow, cockeyed smirk tugs at her lips and Janai leans in to stop the expression in its tracks. 

As Ezran pretends to gag at the display of affection, Janai just hums. The hand not tangled with Amaya’s lays high on her thigh and Amaya grins against her lips before pulling back suddenly. 

Janai pouts. Her fingers had been just inches—

—from Amaya’s pocket. By the way Amaya eyes her, amused-like and victorious, Janai knows her wife was well aware of her intentions. 

She’s not getting her underwear back. 

Pressing her thighs together, Janai huffs. It’s going to be a _long_ night. 

**Author's Note:**

> for reference [here](https://luxaureas.tumblr.com/post/613335339673731072/hey-so-heres-a-hint-for-my-latest-janaya-fic) is their outfits
> 
> don’t forget to follow me on tumblr (luxaureas) and twitter (LUXAUREAS) for sneak peeks of upcoming fics and just!! me screaming abt janaya


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